Don’t lose faith in humanity yet
Someone will rise for the occasion
Once we’re done with that bottom dollar bet
And we’re up to our necks in duly deformation.

Not truly separated from the center
But severed and extracted from it
With fuel to add to our ill temper
No wonder we cannot find any peace.

This mechanical inception of you and I
It becomes part of the perversion that comes alive
One pull of the lever and the level starts to rise
Either you drown in it with dignity
Or sell your soul in order to survive.

Flick of the switch for things to turn around
Inane in here, a prisoner of my own war
But as we all fall down the bottom ground
We realize we were part of the problem from the start.

Not truly set on the pier base
But buried deep within the walls
Which might or might not be case
Of why no one ever heard my calls.

This ostracized intricate perception of us
Lays a pragmatic paramental parallel over our beliefs
‘Cause is there any out there left to trust
Shouldn’t be the ones who serve
On our pain and feed on our grief.

So come and put on your Sunday’s best
You might need to look pretty for the picture
We’re cluttered here with all of the rest
They bring down the foundation to break apart the structure.

Enters the incipient perpetual predicament
The never-found solution for this ongoing mystery
Adding up to the sentiment of ambivalence
And so we go on living under such incensing misery.